Knowingly or unawares;
I cannot tell.

A single strand slung
around my calf or across
my chest.

Her long feathery threads
attach like lithe stowaways
on my socks;
cling to the gruff stubble of
my chin as if it was
the single hair to
escape my razor.

She declares through radiant
wisps that which is hers,

Wisps in predictable and unlikely
places announcing;
This man is mine!
This man is mine!
I claim him and he adores me!

Do strangers notice?
Do passersby see the signs?

It matters not.
The signs are there.
Her precious woven gold
marks me.